Parallel Lives
by Undeniably Pissed
Summary: Kyouya lost Tamaki. Kaoru lost Hikaru. And there’s no one else to turn to but each other.


A/N: This is the much-anticipated sequel to Midnight Conversation (I don't think this was what people expected though…), but you don't have to read that to understand this. I highly recommend Midnight Conversation though, just because it's a good story. XD

Parallel Lives 

_Kyouya lost Tamaki. Kaoru lost Hikaru. And there's no one else to turn to but each other._

Chapter 1

_Allow me the chance to cry_

_I haven't shed a tear for years_

_I've been too busy pretending to be strong_

_And fighting all his fears_

Kyouya-senpai probably wasn't my first choice for such a situation. But I really didn't have anyone else to turn to. I barely had any friends that weren't Hikaru's friends too… He was probably the only one who could understand how I feel about my brother. Everyone else would just turn away from me. And besides, Kyouya-senpai could be trusted. He might be a selfish and manipulative person, but he was loyal to anyone he considered his friend. Even though he wouldn't say that out loud, I knew he cared for me.

"Kyouya-senpai…" I started to say, but he was quick to cut me off.

"We're not in school anymore Kaoru. Call me Kyouya," He told me coolly. Ever the Ice Prince that I always thought he was.

I was to call him Kyouya from now on, huh? I guess it would be stupid to keep the honorifics now that we've graduated.

"Right…" I said, nodding once to tell him that I understand.

"Is this about Hikaru, by any chance?" Kyouya asked as he took a sip of tea. It had been so long since I saw him. Years, in fact. Seeing him sitting across from me, taking a sip of tea as we conversed, painfully reminded me of our days as hosts. It was one of the things that I had never wanted to put in my past.

"How did you know it was about Hikaru?" I asked. I didn't know why I asked. It was a stupid question, really. The fact that it was Kyouya Ootori kind of answered my question. With sources like his, Kyouya knew everything.

"Haven't you noticed that your life seems to revolve around your brother?" Kyouya asked me. There was a hint of condescension there. To my ears, at least. "Every problem you have is related to him. It's quite obvious."

I gripped the handle of my teacup a little too tightly as I replied, "I guess so. Hikaru has been a bit of pain these days."

"And you called me because…"

He trailed off, waiting for me to answer. Maybe I was wrong about Kyouya actually caring. He looked like he'd rather be somewhere else. I may have contacted him at a bad time. That's probably it.

"Are you busy?" I hadn't intended to say that, but my thought slipped out of my lips. Kyouya looked even more annoyed that I still haven't gotten to the point of our conversation.

"I wouldn't be here if I was busy. I could've easily made a reason if I didn't want to talk with you."

That threw me off. It made sense. Of course, if Kyouya explained it, things always made sense. It made me feel like a fool, somehow, to doubt his sincerity.

"Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," was his reply. He was still waiting for me to get to the point.

I realized that I've been avoiding that topic, as if I'm not ready for the revelation myself. Telling someone else about it would make it too real for me. It seems that I'm starting to chicken out. I sighed at myself. What would Hikaru say if he knew that I'm starting to get nervous in Kyouya's presence? I shouldn't feel like a child when I'm with Kyouya.

"If you're not going to say anything, them I'm going to take a wild guess. Hikaru's getting married, isn't he?"

For the second time that day, Kyouya completely threw me off. I stared at him in shock. I knew he knows a lot about the former hosts, even though everyone has gone off to live their lives... but for him to know that Hikaru was getting married when it was such a confidential matter… I couldn't help but gawk and wonder how he could have known. He simply laid an elbow on the table and placed his head on his right hand, returning my stare with an expressionless gaze.

"So I'm right." He was leaning towards me now, none too subtly, as he tried to read my thoughts. At least that's what I thought he was doing. I wouldn't be surprised right now if I found out that he _could_ read minds.

I nodded dumbly. I looked down at my untouched cup of tea, reaching for it with a trembling hand. I took a steadying sip, trying to keep my eyes on the liquid as Kyouya watched me.

"You know, Tamaki's getting married as well," Kyouya said passively. He gave me one last look before straightening in his chair.

I looked up at him, the question _who?_ very visible in my eyes.

"After Haruhi's death," Kyouya paused. There was a moment of silence in which we both recalled the moment that broke the heart of the people who were dearest to our hearts. "Tamaki was eventually persuaded into an arranged marriage. The girl's name is Clarisse Porter. The heiress to an oil company. His grandmother was very pleased with it."

Kyouya's disappointment was not lost on me. I knew how much Tamaki meant to him. Kyouya would've happily fought for Tamaki, but ever since Haruhi died, Tamaki was never the same. He seemed so empty and distant. I knew, because I met him a few months ago by pure coincidence. I was walking idly along a hall in the Louvre, not really there to appreciate art, but to pass the time while Hikaru drank away his misery in a nearby bar. Tamaki had been there as well, staring at a Picasso painting with a faint look of hurt on his face.

I had asked him what he was doing there. He just looked at me blankly and said, _This painting reminds me of Haruhi._

I would've laughed had he not looked so serious. The painting looked nothing like Haruhi. I worried for his state of mind. Any attempt at a decent conversation was hopeless. I left him in the same hallway after thirty minutes. He was staring at a different painting, smiling at it happily and saying, _Haruhi looks lovely in this one._

To this day, I wonder if I should've stayed. But what could I have done? All I could do was stand there while a broken man tried to look for Haruhi in paintings that were all a reflection of something else. It wasn't a pretty sight. It was like watching someone you love slowly and painfully die. In some ways, I knew that that was exactly what was happening to Tamaki.

"Did he… What I mean to say is… was he persuaded into it?" I asked, dreading the answer to my own question.

"The proposal was open for him to either accept or reject. After a few months, he said he'd do it. They will be married in Notre Dame sometime this year. I just heard from one of my sources today, in fact." Kyouya adjusted the glasses on his face. "He never asked me what I thought about it. The fool."

There was sadness in his tone of voice. I was expecting it. Even when he called Tamaki a fool, it lacked the pretend vehemence that I always heard whenever he would speak badly about Tamaki. He never means half the things he says about Tamaki's attitude. But somehow, the way he called Tamaki a fool… it sounded to me like he wasn't directing it at Tamaki. Instead, it was directed more to himself.

But Tamaki was a different story. I never thought he'd go so far as to do something to hurt himself. It made my heart clench that I could do nothing to save him. And I'm sure Kyouya felt the same.

"Whose Hikaru's fiancé?" Kyouya suddenly asked me.

I turned away slightly as I spoke her name, "It's Renge."

For a moment, Kyouya looked startled. I almost smiled. Seeing Kyouya startled wasn't something one sees everyday.

"Renge Houshakuji?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "How did that happen?"

I grinned wryly into my cup. I picked up a teaspoon and leisurely mixed the tea while watching my reflection look back at me. "It's not an overly complicated story. We met Renge while we were vacationing in France. Hikaru wasn't over Haruhi then, and Renge was there by his side, ready to give herself up to make him happy. The relationship was convenient for Hikaru because he could let out all his frustrations on Renge. Apparently, Renge loved him, because she let him do it to her over and over again." And my heart broke for her. But I wasn't able to say it out loud because Kyouya had knocked over his cup and the tea traveled to my side, spilling over my pants.

"Kaoru," he called out worriedly as he hoisted me out of my seat where the tea continued to trickle. It was a good thing that his tea had long cooled.

I looked down at my pants. It had been pristine white, but now it was ruined.

"Kyouya… I don't have any other clothes." It was true. I just flew to Japan to talk to Kyouya. That was it. I wasn't intending on staying for more than a day. There was a wedding to be planned back at France after all.

Kyouya eyed my pants critically, "Let's go to my hotel. It's near here."

He gripped my arm and steered me out of the café. I felt ashamed to step out of the establishment with tea stain all over my pants. I could feel a few people staring at me. Kyouya must've noticed it too because he wasted no time in getting both of us to his car. He helped me into the passenger's seat, and then he took the driver's seat.

It was a quiet drive. By the time we got to Kyouya's hotel the tea on my pants had dried, and what was left was a light brown stain. I cringed at how embarrassing I must look. Luckily, there were very few people in the hotel at the moment. We came upon Kyouya's room in a span of a few minutes.

It was spacious, and classy. It was exactly what I had expected of Kyouya.

"Sit here," he told me, pointing to a comfortable-looking couch in the living room. "I'll be back with clean pants."

I nodded and sat down while he disappeared to what I assumed was his bedroom. I let my eyes wander around the place. It reeked of money. While that wasn't a big deal, the fact that Kyouya lived in a hotel had me wondering. The Ootori mansion was surely a better place than this. I know for a fact that Kyouya quite liked where he had once lived.

I was brought out of my musings when Kyouya returned with a pair of clean slacks. He handed it to me and gave me directions to the bathroom. I stood and was on my way when curiosity got the better of me.

"Kyouya… why do you live in a hotel?"

He paused on his task of collecting plates from a cabinet. He was probably about to make something. Now that's strange. I never thought Kyouya would attempt to cook either.

"I… can't sleep in my own room," was his cryptic reply. I was sure there more to it than that, but he immediately changed the subject. "Hunny sent me some cake. Would you like some?"

I tried to catch his expression but his back was turned to me. I sighed quietly and replied, "I'd like some."

He nodded, and set about to preparing the cake. I watched him a little longer than I had intended to, before I remembered that I should be changing my pants. I walked over to the bathroom, and locked the door. I avoided the mirror at all costs as I changed. Every time I looked at a mirror, I could see Hikaru looking back at me. It was stupid to think that though, because ever since Haruhi's death, Hikaru had started looking years older than he really was. And every premature line on his face betrays the sleepless nights that he had endured in mourning. We had different hairstyles too. Our new friends had insisted on it, so that there will be a way for them to tell us apart. Hikaru's hair was longer than mine now. I was still stuck with the hair I had as a host.

Despite all the changes to his look, Hikaru still managed to look handsome. He had always been handsome, after all.

I folded my pants and walked out with it. Kyouya was already in the living room; fresh cups of tea and slices of cake lay untouched. He looked up at me when I arrived.

"You can keep the pants."

I knew he'd say that. The pants were a little too big on me though. Kyouya was about four inches taller than me.

"Thanks," I tell him. I placed my pants on a nearby table.

He watched me for a while before beckoning on me to sit beside him. I joined him on the couch and he handed me a plate with a slice of strawberry cake. I laid it on my lap while I played with my fork.

He took a small bite of his own slice before picking up where we left off, "I believe you came all the way to Japan to talk about Hikaru. I'm still listening, you know."

I sighed and looked down at my cake. Hikaru. Haruhi. It all started with the two of them. But I don't blame them. The problem lies within me. Years have passed, and yet I still can't let go. It's so pathetic, really.

"Renge is really happy. It was like we were back at the Host Club again. She appears on that stage rotating stage thing wearing all kids of wedding gowns," I paused to laugh weakly. It would've been funny, had it not been so painful. "Renge can't choose which one she likes best. She wants everything to be perfect. She reminds me of her old self back when she was our club's manager."

I felt Kyouya move closer to me. It did nothing to calm me though. If anything, it made me more nervous, "Hikaru proposed to her a week ago. But his heart was not in it. Renge… never really noticed. She was too happy to notice. I've told him again and again that he didn't have to do this. But… he said that he didn't want to disappoint Renge. Not when he knew how much it hurt to lose someone you love."

Hands that were not mine pressed to my face. I turned to look at Kyouya and I saw that he was worried. I started to laugh. Kyouya was worried. About a problem that wasn't his! It really was sort of funny! Ha.

"You're crying," he told me as he wiped at my cheek with his thumb.

I was? I bit back a sob as leaned closer to me and pulled me into his arms.

_Am I really crying?_

It's been so long since I last cried that I simply hadn't… noticed…


End file.
